Remembrance Day
by WeLonelyOldSouls
Summary: The Fourth of July was always a day held dear to the North American nations. It was the first day they removed themselves of Europe. However, not everyone remembers it fondly. Fem!CanadaXAmerica


The brilliant flash and bang was nearly enough to set her on edge, until she realized it was just her brother. She walked to the border she shared with the obnoxious boy, and leaned on the fence. It happened every year, and one would think she would have gotten used to it by now, but they would be wrong. Very wrong. She flinched as one careened over her yard before exploding. The red phosphorous glow lit up the fear in her face. She could see the world centuries ago, when her brother was fighting. The red glow was not in celebration then. She wore a flowing pink dress, and was standing on a wooden deck off her coast. The bombs were going off miles down shore, the shelling of New York. The officials around her were afraid that the war would escalate north, but she stood firm. If war came to her door, she would push it away, like always. Still, something was different. The bombing seemed close, too close to be just from New York. She turned to see Alfred on the deck next to her. His uniform was ragged, holes torn in it, burned and bloodied. Powder clings to his shoulders, and he reeked of the primitive medicines. A bandage slings across his forehead, while another piece if gauze pokes from his pocket. Still, he was here.

"America!" Maddie exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth in shock.

"Canada," He sighed, closing his eyes. He seemed tired, extremely tired. "It's been a long war. Far too long. You don't know how hard it is for me to keep fighting. To keep loosing citizens. I feel every death." As he speaks he starts to dribble blood from his mouth. He wipes it away with his uniforms sleeve, the blood seeping into the other crimson patches. She gasps as he steps more into the light, her hand flying to her mouth again. He has a limp and hasn't shaved in what looks like a week. His face is burned from powder mishaps and his hair is matted with blood. The once proud uniform barely clings to his body as he shivers in the rags. The buttons are long gone, and the elbows and knees are in dire need of patches.

"Is it really that bad?" He asks, staring at the explosions reflected in the water. With every boom he shakes a little. Maddie wraps her arms around him. "This isn't fair. You don't need to fight him. He would understand if you gave him time! Please, this isn't right!" She says, leaning on him. He sighs.

"You don't understand. He still treats me like a child. He expects me to give him part of everything I do. He's too overprotective. I can take care of myself!" His hands resting on the rail tighten until the calloused knuckles are white. The rail beneath his hand creaks as it strains from the fledgling nations strength.

"Hey, careful. This is my entire navy." She chides, grabbing his hands. He turns and gently holds her hands.

"I'm sorry. The stress is getting to me. Can I still expect you to follow me?" He asks hesitantly.

"Of course." She promises. "I gave you my word. I'm behind you. As I should be." She says softly. She dabs blood from his mouth with her dress sleeve and kisses him softly. "I love you, you know that." He takes a deep breath and kisses her again, more passionately as a blinding explosion rocks the ship. He whirls around, a musket appearing in his hands. "England! Show yourself!" He shouts across the oily black water. A sickening laugh comes from the port side as a pair of boots hit the deck. He grins as he flicks his sabre out of its sheath. The cold steel gleams from the explosions in the distance. Maddie glares at England and pushes her officials away, below decks.

"Now that the women are away, the men shall play!" He sneers, rounding at America. America parries with his rifle and stabs at England with its bayonet. England jumps back before renewing his attack, whirling his sword in flashes if glistening steel. America blocks every strike, sometimes with the bayonet, most if the time with the musket itself.

"So you did learn something from that brush war, my colony." He smirks. "Let me show you how an empire functions." He swings overhead at America, feinting and kicking him in his gut. England then whirled behind America, stabbing him through his boot. The razor edge of his sword rests on America's throat as he catches his breath over.

"I should slit you open." He snarls. A muted clack and pop signaled an end to his victory.

"Bonne nuit, angletarre. You mind releasing my friend?" Her soft accent would have been adorable, if not for the raging fury behind it. England smiled.

"My two colonies! Getting along so well. I'm afraid we can't allow that anymore." He spins and slashes at her with his sword.

"Maddie..." The voice, quiet for once made her look up. America stood on his side of the fence. The fireworks were winding down. "Do you still remember that night?" He asks quietly. She pulls her knees tighter from the corner of the fence.

"How could I ever forget? It hurt so much." Tears pool in her eyes from the memory of the pain. He vaults over the fence and crouches in front of her.

"I'm sorry. You won't believe how sorry I am. I never meant for you to get hurt, never! We made England pay, I taught him how it feels."

"S- sil vou plait. America. It's okay. I know what you did. You did what was right. We all have to live with the memories. The memories of what we all have done." She says, standing up. She puts her hand out to help him up.

"Do you remember the years following, when you weren't at war? I still have a few of those dresses. Those were the best times of my life! You can never forget that. You don't owe me anything." He takes her hand and stands.

"That's not true. I will never stop being in your debt." He says, pulling her close and wrapping his arm around her. They kiss briefly as the finale explodes.

As the booms echo, she sees the flash of metal, then the pain burning through her body. Her vision fades and goes dark. It goes in and out of focus as she sees France slice through England's hat in fury, while America lunges from the other side. England, wide eyed, can barely block all of the attacks from the angry countries around him. Slowly he starts to take cuts and gashes over his uniform. He jumps at Maddie and pulls her up, placing his sword at her throat. Her vision goes dark as she screams at the pain, like fires burning all through her. Through a blur of years and gaze of pain she sees America throw down the musket and roar. He punches England in the jaw. England drops her and reels from the blow, amazed at the strength of his colony. America takes a step forward in rage as France pulls her away from the fight. She can barely keep her eyes open to see America beating Britain to a pulp in blind fury at the pain he caused her.

"Mon Cherie, would you allow me?" France asks before slipping her out of the dress to treat her.

"S- sil vou plai- plait." She gasps as dark blood pours from her. Her vision goes blissfully dark as France slides the dress off of her shoulders.

America sighed as she drifted off again into her memories. His hand over her shoulders gently stroked a hairline scar across her shoulder. The trajectory would have caused it to go right down her front, cutting from her shoulder to her opposite side. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. "Never again, my sweet. Never will you ever be hurt to get to me. I swear on the maple syrup you love and the burgers I delight in. I swear you will never be hurt in my name again." She smiles and returns the kiss. "And you always keep your word?" She says softly.

"Always." He promises. "Now, I think I still have the grill going. Could I interest you in a burger?" Maddie laughs, a carefree and hearty chuckle.

"Only you America, only you."


End file.
